It is almost dark through the curtains
The cold creeps around my bed frame
Where sleep in no longer restful times

Soon the visitors will come to the door
And I will try my best to offer warmth
But the difficulty will be much a climb

I say sorry that, today, one cannot give
And whisper across the room my quiet
While they can only imagine, love notes.

And on the floor the two children play
Beautiful in their Christmas costumes
Blonde and flaxen haired in the lights .

I managed to give out warmth then.

Love Mary ***